Yesterday, I was approached by a pair of kindred spirits. One chap featured a full crop of blonde hair, rosy cheeks, and was wearing an orange Nebraska cotton sweatshirt. Dark hair framed the face of the second fellow. He stood at least a foot taller than myself, and was dressed in black sweats.
They both ordered a brewed coffee. I was in the middle of ringing them up, when I uttered the words (using my fake British accent), “Would you like a biscuit?”
(Currently, biscuit is my favorite word)
Reaching up to wipe his forehead with the back of his hand, the dark haired chap immediately fired off, “NO.”
With a smile on my face, “Good, because we don’t have any biscuits.”
Channeling The Field of Dreams, the same fellow said quietly, .... “the biscuits will come.”
“Bravo, that’s the spirit, the glass is half full and so too are the biscuits.”
They both stood planted at my register, perhaps, waiting for an explanation.
I began, “Just like the visionary, Reverend Martin Luther King, Jr., I too have a dream...”
The blonde haired man finally joined the conversation, “What’s that?”
“If everyone in the world had a biscuit, there would be no hunger or war...and we would all look up to, or down at, the one that binds us together.”
“Who’s that?”
“The Pillsbury Doughboy, of course.”
